Before 40: The blueprint I inherited without question
I inherited what I thought was my blueprint of success, the typical Singaporean blueprint.
Study hard, get a degree, get a job, find a partner, get a house, form a family, and you can predict what the next milestones are.
This blueprint has created many successful people and I inherited it quietly from my parents, my extended family, and my peers. It was the default blueprint for many Singaporeans including myself.
Education. Job. Status. Money.
Those were the fundamentals of the blueprint. And, I went through it like clockwork and sometimes, even thrived in it.
I learnt the rules of engagement and what it takes.
Say "Yes". Don't argue and just do. That was my primary mode of operation. I didn't know any other way, and questioning things only seemed to invite unnecessary trouble.
There were times when I rebelled against it. They never lasted long. I was studying electrical engineering. The misalignment between that and the hospitality career I actually wanted became overbearing. I quit university without telling my parents. Kept silent for 3 months while working part-time.
Eventually, they found out. I didn't have the courage to pursue what I would have otherwise wanted. So back in line I went with the blueprint. Continued on with my university education but at least in hospitality this time.
Security or desire? I learnt the answer early. Security wins when you don't have courage.
I got back in line and started working. Titles became my identity. Manager, director or whatever came next. Each rung up the ladder felt like proof that I wasn't a failure, proof that I was good enough. The higher I climbed, the more I believed I was earning my place in the world.
I went from executive to director in a small international company. It was small, but I saw it as big. I worked hard to build my skills and competencies, and I was fortunate to have good bosses who became mentors along the way. On the surface, things looked like they were progressing.
But underneath all of that, something else was quietly building too.
The fear of not being enough.
It didn't show up as envy or obvious comparison to my peers. It showed up as perpetual preparation. Always getting ready, never quite ready. That way, I never had to face whether I was actually enough.
Once, I broke down completely. There was a clash at work where colleagues were upset on one side, others upset on another, and I was caught in the middle trying to keep everyone happy. I told myself I was protecting others, but the truth was simpler and harder to admit. I was protecting myself. I wanted to be nice to both sides so I wouldn't have to make a difficult choice.
I remember hyperventilating, unable to cope, just wanting to get out. And then after some time to calm down and collect myself, I went back to work the next day as if nothing had happened.
That's what the blueprint taught me. Keep going. Don't stop. Push through regardless of where your physical, emotional, or mental self was at.
But cracks were starting to form in the blueprint I had followed so obediently.
Through work, I was exposed to worlds beyond the Singaporean bubble I grew up in. I saw people without prestigious degrees building successful businesses and doing far better than those who had followed the "right" educational path. I saw others with impressive credentials from top universities doing basic, uninspiring work that didn't seem to match their qualifications. The formula I had inherited (good school leads to good job leads to good life) clearly wasn't the only way.
And yet, I kept climbing. Kept trying to prove myself. My nervous system was stretched thin from years of being on constant alert, always pushing for the next milestone.
Then COVID hit and the world came to a stop. For the first time in as long as I could remember, so did I.
In the stillness that followed, different questions started to surface. Not questions about climbing or achieving or proving myself to anyone. What do I actually want? What's enough? And where's the courage to pursue my own version of success?
I didn't have answers. But the questions weren't going away. And this time, I wasn't going back in line.